


me and my husband

by knightspur



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Accidental Marriage, Developing Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Future Fic, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-10-04 07:48:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17300660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knightspur/pseuds/knightspur
Summary: There’s a delicate gold band on his third finger, exactly the same as Minghao’s.“Signed paper… rings…” Mingyu ticks off on his fingers. “We’re both naked…”“Please stop talking,” Minghao says, grinding his palms into his eyes. “I can’t put up with you right now.”“That’s not a nice thing to say to your husband,” Mingyu says, far too pleased with himself.





	me and my husband

The list of things Minghao notices when he wakes up goes as follows:

An expensive bottle of tequila sitting empty a few feet away from the bed, Mingyu, curled up in bed with him, a bright gold ring on his third finger that he doesn’t recognize, piece of paper in English that Minghao can’t quite make out, even when he squints at it, and the worst hangover that he’s had in years.

He immediately groans, turning his head to the side to bury it in the pillow in an effort to hide from the extremely rude sunshine pouring in through the window. It’s way more than Minghao is used to, even staying in an American hotel with obnoxiously sized windows.

The motion makes Mingyu stir slightly, the arm that Minghao hadn’t noticed was already around his waist tightening to pull him flush against Mingyu’s chest. This is nothing new— he’s shared a bed with Mingyu plenty of times over the years… enough to know that he always clings first thing upon waking up in the morning.

What is different than Minghao is used to is the realization that Mingyu— pressed snug up against his back— is completely naked. Minghao, in spite of the slow throbbing in his head, startles and pushes himself upright. He means to ask why Mingyu isn’t wearing any clothes, only to realize that _he’s_ also naked. He opens his mouth, all the words dried up and stuck to his tongue.

“Hey,” Mingyu says, coppery hair hanging in his face, a loose smile stretching across his face.

“Where are your clothes?” Minghao groans, leaning forward and hiding his face in his hands. “What did you make me drink?”

“It wasn’t all my idea,” Mingyu says, poking the cold tips of his fingers against Minghao’s bare ribs. Minghao twitches, barking out a little laugh before he can stop himself. He swats Mingyu’s hand away, grunting and laying back down with a sigh.

“Why are you not wearing clothes?” Minghao repeats, looking over with a raised eyebrow.

“Why aren’t you?” Mingyu says, lifting the sheet to look down at them both. He grins, dropping it again.

“I don’t know,” Minghao says, rolling to the side and finally detaching himself from the bed. Mingyu sits up slowly, stretching his arms over his head and groaning.

At least the room isn’t quite as torn up as Minghao feels— short of the empty bottle and the mingled mess of their clothes on the floor there’s nothing seriously out of place. Minghao grabs the paper, squints at it for a moment before tossing it on the bed next to Mingyu.

“What does that say?” He asks, grabbing underwear from the floor and not bothering to check if it’s actually his before he puts it on.

Mingyu grabs it and frowns, his eyebrows pinching together as he focuses on the English text.

“State of Nevada… certificate of Marriage,” Mingyu says, his voice slower as he reads. Minghao stops, turning slowly around, blinking slowly.

It’s definitely the hangover. There’s no way Mingyu actually just said…

“Did we get married?” Mingyu says, sounding almost entertained by the idea. He flips the paper over in his hand, chuckling to himself.

“We did not get married,” Minghao says, sounding sharp even to his own ears.

“We both signed it,” Mingyu says, looking over at Minghao now, the paper in his lap. “And you have a ring on.”

Minghao, trying to get on Mingyu’s nerves as well as do his best to deny what’s happening, holds his right hand up to show off the platinum ring on his pinky. It’s not what Mingyu is referring to and in response Mingyu holds up his left hand.

There’s a delicate gold band on his third finger, exactly the same as Minghao’s.

“Signed paper… rings…” Mingyu ticks off on his fingers. “We’re both naked…”

“Please stop talking,” Minghao says, grinding his palms into his eyes. “I can’t put up with you right now.”

“That’s not a nice thing to say to your husband,” Mingyu says, far too pleased with himself.

“My husband?” It’s only through sheer force of will that Minghao doesn’t just start screaming. Before they left the other members kept making jokes about all the way Mingyu and Minghao’s extended working vacation in America could go wrong. Getting lost… Getting kidnapped… Posting pictures on Instagram that get them in trouble with the company.

Not one of them considered running off to Las Vegas and getting _married._ Minghao himself doesn’t know how to begin to process what’s going on. He has a blurry series of memories of the night before, though they get thinner and thinner as he tries to sort through them.

“I need a shower,” Minghao says, dropping his hands to his sides and shaking his head.

“Okay,” Mingyu says, dragging himself out of bed. Minghao looks over at him then blinks, his face slowly flushing red.

“Actually,” he says, clearing his throat awkwardly. “Maybe you should go first.”

Mingyu frowns, then follows Minghao’s gaze to where he’s staring at his stomach— at the smear of tacky, dried—

“Oh,” Mingyu says, the tips of his ears glowing bright pink. “Yeah. I’ll, um. Yeah.”

Minghao decides, as Mingyu is walking into the bathroom, it’s better not to point out the perfect semi-circle ring of teeth imprinted into his shoulder. Mingyu’s bound to notice it on his own, anyway and Minghao absolutely cannot stomach any more thinking about what else the two of them might have done the night before.

This is not how their relationship is supposed to go… for all the teasing the two of them have to endure from the other members, Minghao has never seriously considered their relationship to be anything approaching romantic. They’re close, of course. Closer even than other boys in the group. But that’s just because they share the same interests.

In interviews, Minghao sometimes refers to Mingyu as his soulmate but he’s never actually _meant_ it. It’s part of the smoke and mirrors… fanservice.

This is an animal of a different kind entirely. This is crossing every possible line— the thought that he and Mingyu actually slept together, that they got _married_ …

Minghao’s stomach turns over in a threatening kind of way and he snaps his eyes shut again, pressing his face into his hands.

Later, he decides. He can deal with all of this later.

**{* * *}**

Twenty minutes after Minghao steps out of the shower, their manager is already calling to make sure the two of them are up and packing their things already.

Vegas was a fun detour. The two of them have three days before they fly from LA back home to Korea and there’s filming to wrap up before they actually go home.

Which means there’s really no time to talk about this whole marriage thing. Minghao stuffs the certificate up at the bottom of his bag, carefully folded up, and puts on a few other rings so the one meant to be a wedding band doesn’t stick out.

Mingyu seems strangely… buoyant about the whole thing. Not yet over treating it all as a joke. The two of them load their stuff into the rented car Mingyu has been driving around since they landed in America and he chats with the manager for a few minutes about the route they’re supposed to take back to LA.

The whole time, Minghao is trying to figure out what they’re supposed to _do_ about this. He has no idea how to end a marriage quickly in America, not to mention the risk of anyone else finding out.

They’ve been lucky so far to only run into fans in the right contexts so far… while they were out shopping or eating, during breaks for the vacation reality show the two of them are part of filming. Minghao can’t even begin to imagine the trouble they’ll be in if someone caught sight of the two of them in a chapel.

It’s going to be a long drive.

Mingyu peels away from the manager with a smile on his face, reaching out to tug Minghao away from the driver side door with a laugh.

“You ready?” He asks, the sharp points of his teeth showing when he smiles.

“Yeah, sure,” Minghao says, trying to shake himself out of his own thoughts. “Let’s go.”

Mingyu chuckles, giving Minghao’s shoulder a little shake. “Are you still hungover?”

“No,” Minghao says, his voice a note sour. “I’m fine.”

“Okay,” Minghao says, rolling his eyes when he lets go. “We can stop and get something to eat once you’re done being grumpy.”

Minghao opens his mouth to argue then decides against it. He climbs into the passenger's seat and leans his head back against the soft leather, shutting his eyes.

“Are you sick or freaking out?” Mingyu says once they’ve been on the road for a short while. Minghao blinks his eyes open, unaware that he’d started to drift off to sleep.

“I’m not freaking out,” he says, though the tone isn’t exactly convincing.

Mingyu glances over, pulling one hand off the wall to squeeze Minghao’s shoulder, his hand lingering there. For a moment, Minghao forgets to be so tense and worked up and just leans into the contact.

“I took a bunch of pictures last night,” Mingyu says, giving Minghao’s shoulder another squeeze before his hand drops to the side. “It looks like we had a pretty quiet ceremony.”

He’s smiling when he says it, unaware of the way Minghao’s stomach clenches.

“We’re gonna have to figure out how you… undo something like this,” Minghao says, slouching over in his seat. “Before we get home.”

“Right,” Mingyu says, staring at the empty desert around them. “We can call Joshua-hyung when we get back to LA.”

“You want him to know?” Minghao says, the words coming out too fast. “So he can tell Jeonghan-hyung and everyone else can find out?”

“Ah, I guess not,” Mingyu says, dropping his eyes for a second and shaking his head.

“There might be someone else we can ask,” Mingyu says, his shoulders lifting in a shrug.

“We’ll have to,” Minghao says, folding his arms over his stomach. “There’s not really a lot of time before we go back home.”

“I don’t think we can stay any longer,” Mingyu says, scratching the back of his neck. “Not without missing some of the concert prep stuff.”

“I know,” Minghao says, an edge of frustration to his voice. “But this is…”

“We don’t have to tell anybody,” Mingyu says, his eyes darting off to the side. “If we can’t, um, figure something out.”

“You mean just…” Minghao trails off, waving his left hand between them. “Stay married?”

“Just for now,” Mingyu says, his laughter edging a touch nervous. “People get secretly married all the time… we’ll just keep it to ourselves until we figure it out.”

Minghao half wants to throw himself out of the car rather than find a way to get themselves out of this whole mess, but leaving Mingyu to clean up by himself seems no better.

“This isn’t a joke,” Minghao says, shooting him a glare from the corner of his eye.

Mingyu’s expression tightens and for the first time he doesn’t laugh about it.

“I know,” he says, a little softer. “We’ll take care of it.”

Minghao, in spite of himself, starts to relax. The relief is short-lived— interrupted the next time Mingyu opens his mouth.

“Did we really have sex?” Mingyu says, his voice too bright. He looks over with an eyebrow lifted and Minghao slumps over in his seat, trying to hide between his shoulders.

“Do you have another explanation?” he asks, grumbling. He has vague memories of the whole evening— ones that blur together and refuse to be sorted in the proper order— but memories nonetheless. “I guess it was just… in the moment…”

“I’m not gonna be able to wear a tank top for like a week,” Mingyu says, whining. He doesn’t really sound that put out and Minghao’s stomach flips in a funny way at the thought.

“I saw that this morning,” Minghao says. It’s an observation not an apology. There’s no point in apologizing when he’s not sorry.

“I’ll have to ask one of the noonas to cover it up,” Mingyu says, his eyes darting in Minghao’s direction again. He’s probably trying to measure if Minghao is still freaking out. Whatever he’s looking for, he must find it because he smiles once again. “At least I didn’t have pictures of that part.”

Surprised, Minghao coughs rather than laughing, leaning forward with his forehead almost against his knees. Mingyu laughs as well, reaching out and rubbing one hand up and down Minghao’s back.

“I guess that’s the bright side,” Minghao says, once he can breathe again.

“Yeah,” Mingyu says, a little more slowly. “I guess so.”

He’s not really eager to talk about it further than that— it’s impossible to erase the fact that they definitely slept together. Minghao only sort of remembers it but going by the evidence he was a more than active participant. The bite on Mingyu’s shoulder and the fact that he found two used condoms in the trash by the bed like they still weren’t finished with each other after the first time.

Minghao doesn’t really know how to confront the reality of it. He’s happy to acknowledge that Mingyu is attractive, it’s part of his job, and he’s fine being attracted to him, too.

He’s never tried to act on it before. The thought may have crossed his mind sometimes… alone, in the dark… but Minghao doesn’t really want to dwell on that either.

**{* * *}**

Things aren’t really as strange as Mingyu feared they would be. After they settle back into their suite in LA, Minghao drapes himself across Mingyu’s bed with the book he brought from Seoul and declares he’s actually going to have a few hours of real vacation time.

It makes Mingyu laugh, sitting in the overstuffed chair shoved in the corner of his room. He figures if Minghao wanted to be alone, he would be in his own room of the suite they have command of, not lingering in Mingyu’s space.

He puts some music on and Minghao doesn’t complain about that either, just glances over at him once before settling back into place, Mingyu’s pillows stacked up behind him to support his back at a better angle while he reads.

The quiet, unfortunately, means Mingyu has no distraction from the slight weight of the gold ring on his finger. When he’s sure that Minghao really isn’t paying attention, he twists it around his finger, feeling the smooth metal grow warmer from his skin. It seems he has much more distinct memories of the night before than Minghao does, though that’s not really a surprise. He’s always had a higher tolerance for alcohol than most of the group and Minghao is so skinny to begin with that it doesn’t really take much to push him over the limit.

So, he remembers Minghao crawling into his lap to feed him another shot of tequila, the wet slide of Minghao’s mouth over his neck when he mumbled out that they should get married. He remembers the two of them picking out rings— Minghao is probably going to have a second heart attack when he looks at his bank statement and sees how much they spent on them.

Mostly what he remembers of the night before is how sure he felt that this was all going to be okay. The two of them already share an apartment back in Seoul, with a big white dog and tall windows that Minghao loves to take pictures from. Their lives are already so deeply entwined that it would be impossible to untangle them entirely from one another.

“You don’t have to wear it,” Minghao says, looking over the edge of his book, watching Mingyu twist the ring between his fingers. Mingyu drops his hand with a nervous hum, tucking his hand in his lap. Minghao was paying attention— of course he was.

“It’s fine,” Mingyu says, clearing his throat and doing his best to smile. “I’m just getting used to it.”

It must be the wrong thing to say because Minghao’s expression hardens and he drags his gaze back to the book, glaring holes through the pages rather than actually doing any reading.

“Do you want me to take it off?” Mingyu asks, putting his words in careful order.

“I don’t care,” Minghao says, his eyes cutting over in Mingyu’s direction once again. One corner of his mouth is pulled down and his eyes rest on the ring rather than looking Mingyu in the face.

“Might as well wear it,” Mingyu says finally, shrugging one shoulder. “We can’t really take them back.”

Minghao hums, drumming his fingers on the cover of the book for a moment before flipping it shut and shaking his head. “Yeah, I guess.”

Mingyu wants to ask if Minghao wants to take his own ring off but the question seems wasted. It wouldn’t be like him to stand on courtesy, at least not on Mingyu’s behalf. They’ve known each other long enough and well enough that there’s no point in simply trying to be polite for its own sake. But Minghao still has the ring on and Mingyu can’t help the part of himself that badly wants to know why.

Maybe it’s silly of him to hope for more— Minghao already thinks of the whole thing as nothing more than a drunken accident and Mingyu should leave it at that. But _should_ isn’t enough to silence the part of his heart that hopes—

The two of them have been moving in this direction— slowly, carefully— for a long time.

Instead of pressing him for another answer, Mingyu drags himself out of the chair and crashes on the bed next to Mingha, offense mostly faked. He lets himself be rolled against Mingyu’s side.

Mingyu tucks an arm around him to prevent Minghao from trying to escape. Minghao looks up at him, eyebrow lifting gently. “I’m reading.”

“Your book is over there,” Mingyu says, grinning a little. Minghao puffs out another little sigh, laying his head against Mingyu’s chest, giving in without further complaint.

“Do you know when we’re supposed to film tomorrow?” Minghao asks after a moment of laying against Mingyu, wiggling one arm free to drape across Mingyu’s chest in return. Mingyu hums, rubbing a hand up Minghao’s back.

“Early,” Mingyu says, his mouth close to Minghao’s temple, ruffling the short strands of his bangs. “We have to do all the scenes in Santa Monica.”

Minghao muffles a groan, shutting his eyes and pressing his face against Mingyu’s shoulder to hide.

“Three more days, right?” Minghao says, indistinct against the fabric of Mingyu’s shirt. “Until we go home?”

“Yeah,” Mingyu says, rubbing the nape of Minghao’s neck. “I think we’re flying back at night.”

Over the years, all this touching has become routine. All the way back, when Minghao could barely mumble out of a few phrases of Korean and Mingyu was just fascinated with the final addition to the group, they were awkward about the idea of touching each other at all.

Now it’s like second nature. Mingyu doesn’t think about it so much as he just lets himself be drawn in automatically. He eats, he breathes, he feels the warmth of Minghao’s skin. Minghao has always been a little more free with his touch than he is with his words.

Mingyu has started to understand all the things that Minghao does rather than speak— when he tugs nervously on his fingers, or holds onto someone else for support when he laughs. When he grumbles curses in Mandarin. He’s become the only living expert in decoding Xu Minghao.

“Your parents are bringing back the dog, right?” He asks, resting the point of his chin on Mingyu’s chest to look up at him. Mingyu nods, his thumb brushing the soft hairs at the base of his skull. Minghao hums, his fingers spread over the curve of Mingyu’s ribs. “We should take them out to dinner for watching her.”

“Okay,” Mingyu says, laying his head back against one of the overstuffed pillows. “I’ll call them later.”

Minghao nods, his fingers curling in Mingyu’s shirt for a moment. He releases it after a second, picking his hand up. Mingyu’s head tilts to the side as well, joining Minghao in looking at the gold band wrapped around his finger.

It’s rare that Mingyu can’t begin to guess what’s on Minghao’s mind. Minghao, for all the way he tries to repress what he’s feeling, has never truly escaped the fact that he has a heart clear and lucid as a pane of glass.

But when it comes to this— the idea that today they are something different than they were before— Mingyu doesn’t even know how to begin unraveling Minghao’s thoughts.

**{* * *}**

In spite of the fact that the two of the barely have a day to sleep off the jet-lag and unpack, Minghao’s glad to be home.

It helps that Mingyu’s parents show up to drop off the dog— a 6 month old pitbull mix, Bao— only a few hours after they get home. It means he has a little extra help in keeping Mingyu awake since he’s more focused on playing with the dog than slinking off to fall asleep.

Not that Minghao could blame him— with the time difference and the fourteen hour flight. He has to struggle to drag himself up out of bed early enough to walk the dog and avoid Soonyoung incessantly calling to make sure the two of them will be out of the house on time.

When he gets back, Mingyu is barely out of the shower, shuffling around the room with a towel wrapped around his waist.

He yelps when Minghao opens the door and unleashes Bao back into the house, chuckling when she sprints headlong toward Mingyu and nearly knocks him over. Minghao swings the door shut, muffling more laughter when Mingyu just barely avoids losing his towel in the chaos.

“You scared me,” he whines, gripping the fabric around his hips at the same time he leans over to scratch the dog between her ears.

“You took this long to shower?” Minghao says, the corners of his mouth still lifted up in a smile. Mingyu shrugs, standing up again and puffing his cheeks out.

“We’re not late,” he says, shaking his head. He turns, walking back into his own room to get dressed. Minghao rolls his eyes, trailing after Mingyu with Bao a few steps behind him.

It’s only then that he recognizes the wedding band still on Mingyu’s hand. He didn’t take his own off either… in the shuffle of unpacking and trying not to totally ruin both their sleep schedules, he’d forgotten all about the massive mistake the two of them made.

He’s still got no idea how they’re supposed to deal with it, either. Asking someone with a better understanding of American laws is their only real option, but it’s hard to judge how anyone but Joshua or Hansol will react. And he wants people outside of the group to find out even less than he wants the rest of the members to know.

The members are like an extension of Minghao’s family but he’s had enough already of their suggestive looks and prodding comments over the years. It’s not enough to explain that he and Mingyu are just friends, the same as the rest of them.

Minghao doesn’t realize there’s a scowl on his face until Mingyu looks over at him, leaning his head curiously to the side. “Tired still?”

“I’m fine,” Minghao says, a little too quickly, shaking himself out of his thoughts. “I was just… thinking.”

Mingyu blinks, a worried frown crossing his face. He must not have caught Minghao staring at the ring once again because after a moment his features smooth out. “We should be able to catch up on sleep in a couple of days.”

“I’m fine,” Minghao repeats, doing his best to smile.

“Are you planning on watching me get dressed?” Mingyu asks, smiling when Minghao does.

“I wanted to see if you still need extra makeup,” Minghao teases, if only to give himself a reason to stick around. Mingyu’s ears go pink, probably remembering how the stylists fussed over covering up the bite mark.

Minghao leaves the doorway to stand behind Mingyu, running the pad of his thumb over the nearly faded impression of his teeth. Standing so close, he can see the way Mingyu shivers slightly at the light touch. He glances over his shoulder at where Minghao’s hand is resting before turning around again and clearing his throat.

“How’s it look?” He asks, gently detaching himself to actually pull out clothes from his drawers.

“Not bad,” Minghao says, biting down on the corner of his lip to keep something worse from escaping his mouth. The back of his neck is splashed pink and Minghao wants to drag his fingers over that as well as the faded mark on his shoulder.

It’s almost a shame that the one time he actually got to touch Mingyu he can barely remember. Minghao steps back, dropping his hand and clearing his throat a little.

“You’re alright. I doubt anyone else will notice it,” Minghao says, trying not to sound disappointed. He is, even though he shouldn’t be. It’s better for both of them if the mark is gone. It’s just more evidence of the mistake they’re supposed to be undoing. But some part of him wishes it would hang around longer. 

Or that he could sink his teeth into Mingyu’s bronze skin and leave another one.

“Okay, that’s good,” Mingyu says, giggling once again when he turns back to look at Minghao.

“Don’t make us late,” Minghao says, turning around fast in an effort to hide the way his face is red. He steps around the dog, rushing his way out of Mingyu’s room as quick as he can without seeming strange.

**{* * *}**

As much as he knows Minghao was hoping to keep their new relationship status a secret, Mingyu can’t help thinking he wouldn’t mind if the rest of the members found out.

It’s not exactly subtle, especially given the way Minghao slinks around avoiding him like a cat that’s had his tail stepped on. He’s not quite angry but he’s upset, either with Mingyu or himself, and still nursing the seeming wound to his dignity.

He wears his ring to rehearsals, so Mingyu does too. It’s like they’re playing chicken, almost— testing which one of them will flinch first. Quick as he was to call it a mistake, Minghao kept the certificate and the ring.

Maybe it doesn’t mean anything at all and Minghao really just forgot he had the ring on, but Mingyu doesn’t think so. It’s too new to have become familiar already.

As for hoping no one else notices… Mingyu doesn’t think that will last very long either.

Wonwoo sits down next to him on the first break they take, sitting on his left, which Mingyu doesn’t think anything of, tilting his head back and pouring more water into his mouth. After the two weeks without having to practice, he’s a little unprepared for how hard Soonyoung has been pushing them all morning.

“The ring is a new one,” Wonwoo says, tilting his head toward Mingyu’s left hand.

Mingyu has to force himself not to clench his fingers into a fest or shove his hand between his legs in an effort to hide it. That’ll only make things worse.

“I got it overseas,” Mingyu says, glancing at the ring for a second before shrugging his shoulders.

“Minghao-ya got the same one,” Wonwoo says, the hint of a smile at the corners of his lips.

“He liked it too,” Mingyu says, hoping he doesn’t sound defensive. It probably doesn’t matter anyway— defending himself or not, it’s going to be hard to keep them from coming up with their own theories one way or another.

Wonwoo blinks at him, slow and unconvinced. “Nothing special to them?”

“No, not really,” Mingyu says, laughing nervously and rubbing at the back of his neck. “It wasn’t supposed to be a big deal.”

At a glance, Mingyu can tell that Wonwoo doesn’t believe him. He can’t blame him for it, either. He’s yet to come up with a real, workable excuse for the rings or the sudden chill in the air between him and Minghao.

“You two suck with secrets,” Wonwoo says, shaking his head. “You can’t wear the rings and keep it hidden from us.”

“There’s no secret,” Mingyu says. He would feel worse about lying if Minghao weren’t so adamant about undoing the whole thing as soon as possible. In a week there probably won’t even be a secret to keep.

Wonwoo rolls his eyes and Mingyu can’t even manage to feel briefly offended by it. He looks down at the ring then across the room to where Jun is currently draped over one of Minghao’s shoulders, trying to steal sips from his water bottle. If Minghao notices Mingyu’s attention on him, it doesn’t show.

He isn’t quick enough to avoid Wonwoo noticing, however. 

“You really are awful at this,” Wonwoo says, low laughter underlying his words. “How are you gonna keep fans from noticing?”

“It’s not gonna stick,” Mingyu says, leaning his head back against the mirrored wall.

“Aren’t you an optimist?” Wonwoo says, lifting his eyebrows.

“Minghao wants it undone yesterday.” He sighs, glancing at the other members to make sure no one else has taken a sudden interest in their conversation. The last thing he needs is to upset Minghao even more by letting the whole team find out on their first day back.

“But you don’t,” Wonwoo says, filling in the blanks on his own.

“I don’t know,” Mingyu says, scowling to himself. “I wasn’t _planning_ on it but… I don’t think it’s all that bad.”

Wonwoo laughs, scrunching his nose and leaning forward against his legs for support. “You weren’t planning on marrying him?”

“Of course not!” Mingyu is whining, barely resisting the urge to shove Wonwoo over and make him stop laughing like this is the best joke he’s heard all week. “Minghao and I aren’t together like that.”

“Sure you are.” He picks himself up off the floor, holding out a hand to help Mingyu up as well. Everyone else is shuffling back to the center of the room to pick up on practice once again. “You guys just never wanted to admit it.”

Mingyu uses Wonwoo’s hand to pull himself up but doesn’t say anything in response. He’s not sure if Wonwoo is right in this case or not.

**{* * *}**

It’s a few days before Minghao gets the chance to drag Hansol away from their regular practice under the pretense of getting coffee.

“There’s something on your mind, isn’t there,” he says after Minghao buys him an Americano _and_ a pastry after Hansol promises not to say anything to anyone else. “You’ve been kind of quiet since you guys got back from California.”

“It’s just jetlag,” Minghao says, still a shade defensive. It doesn’t matter that he brought him out here specifically to try and ask how he’s supposed to end his marriage to Mingyu.

It hasn’t changed as much as Minghao thought… or feared. Maybe it’s because the agreement to keep it a secret means the both of them are just ignoring it. Not talking about it as almost as good as it never having happened in the first place.

But still even with their most recent concert preparations in full swing, it’s never been that far off his mind. It doesn’t help that Mingyu still hasn’t taken off his ring, which means Minghao can’t do it either. Not without feeling like he’s lost somehow.

“Right,” Hansol says, a crooked grin on his face. “You won’t make eye contact with Mingyu-hyung.” He leans his arm on the counter, bouncing he dark straw of his coffee against his lower lip. “Did you guys fight?”

“We didn’t have a fight,” Minghao says, frowning a little harder. “We’re fine.”

“He’s acting like you’re mad at him,” Hansol says, shrugging one of his shoulders. “Seungkwan-ah keeps trying to ask him about it.”

“You kids never mind your own business,” Minghao says, stepping away from the counter.

Hansol patiently ignores his complaining, rattling the ice in his cup around and walking after Minghao with a quiet hum. Minghao glances back at him, shooting him a weightless glare before stopping. He balances his own coffee in his right hand, holding his left up with a raise of his eyebrow.

For the last few days he’s been wearing a variety of rings to try and conceal that there’s a new one he hasn’t taken off yet. Mingyu hasn’t been so careful on his own, but they’ve had matching pieces of jewelry before and so far no one has put two and two together yet.

Minghao taps his thumb against the band and when realization still doesn’t dawn on Hansol’s face, he drops his hand with a sigh.

“We had a few days in the middle to ourselves,” Minghao says, rubbing the back of his neck. “And Mingyu wanted to go spend the night in Las Vegas.”

Slowly, the pieces fit themselves together in Hansol’s head.

“You got engaged in Vegas?” He asks, leaning his head to the side. “That’s kinda cool. Was it at the little Eiffel tower?”

Minghao thinks he could gladly strangle Hansol, if only because he doesn’t want to lay it out in words.

“We got married,” he says, stressing the syllables of each word.

“Without telling us?” Hansol says, his mouth hanging open. “That’s really cold.”

“We weren’t _supposed_ to,” Minghao hisses, ruffling a hand through his hair. “I think the tequila was more involved with that choice than we were.”

“Oh,” Hansol says, drawing the word out long in understanding. “Well that’s still cool. We can all get dinner or something and celebrate.”

“Yah,” Minghao says, cuffing Hansol on the side of his neck. “I’m trying to ask you how we undo it.”

“Undo it?” Hansol says, blinking his doe-eyes slowly. “Like… getting a divorce?”

Something about the word strikes Minghao as wrong. It feels like nails scraping along the inside of his heart.

“Not like that,” Minghao says, surprise reflected in the sharpness of his tone. Hansol looks even more confused and Minghao breathes out a sigh. “There’s gotta be something else, right? Can’t we just cancel it?”

“I don’t know,” Hansol says, laughing a little. “That’s kinda a better question for Josh, isn’t it?”

“I’m trying to avoid everyone in the world knowing about it,” Minghao says, shaking his head. “Hyung can’t keep secrets.”

“I can try and look it up,” Hansol says, scratching the back of his head. “Or text my mom.”

Minghao nods his head, shoving the door open with his hip to let Hansol walk out ahead of him.

“So like, if you two get divorced who keeps the dog?” Hansol asks, looking over his shoulder with a lopsided smile on his face.

“I do,” Minghao says without hesitating. “He can visit her every other weekend.”

**{* * *}**

At some point in the last decade, Mingyu became impossible for Minghao to avoid. It probably happened well before they decided to leave the dorms and move into an apartment together. It would be hard to push any member of Seventeen out of his daily life, but Mingyu most of all.

Which means as much as Minghao doesn’t want to face his new husband, he’s short on choices. They’re doing concert stage rehearsals and running through one of the talking segments that give everyone else time to drink water and fix their makeup and change into the next set of outfits.

It’s just the two of them on stage with a few managers hanging out in the arena. They aren’t really paying attention; they’ve already made sure all the sound equipment is working properly and the two of them only have a loose script for what they’re supposed to be doing. It’s not so much practice as it is a few minutes goofing off to make sure the timing is correct.

Mingyu has decided to spend it with his arms locked around Minghao’s waist, chin hooked over his shoulder. They’re both sweaty from running choreography and Minghao can feel the steady thumping of Mingyu’s heart against his back. None of this is unusual, but for some reason Minghao’s stomach still works itself into knots.

The last week or so since they got back from America, Minghao has been avoiding doing things like this with Mingyu. At least, avoiding it as much as possible. Mingyu is clingy by nature and Minghao doesn’t have the strength of will required to deny him all the time. But when he has Mingyu hanging onto him like this, it’s hard to keep his mind from going to troubling places.

It was never in his plans to sleep with Mingyu, no matter what his animal hind-brain insists. But, somehow it’s worse knowing he has slept with Mingyu but only being able to remember it as a series of vague impressions. It’s awakened a terrible kind of curiosity in him.

He wants to remember exactly what it was like. Failing that, he wants to do it again— he wants a chance to do it properly. The bite mark that Minghao left on Mingyu’s shoulder has faded but Minghao hasn’t been able to keep himself from staring at the spot where it was. He wants to put another one there, or on Mingyu’s neck, on his stomach…

Mingyu gives him a squeeze, laughing when Minghao tries to elbow him off.

“You’re getting too skinny,” Mingyu says, fitting his hands around Minghao’s ribs. His fingers stretch out wide and it feels like they could almost fit all the way around Minghao’s chest. It’s the kind of thing he never lingered on before this whole ordeal started.

“We’ve been practicing more,” Minghao says, shaking his head. Mingyu laughs, his breath tickling the side of Minghao’s neck.

“Then you should eat more,” Mingyu says. His hands are warm, even through Minghao’s shirt and Minghao has to suppress a shiver.

“I’m fine,” he says, leaning back into Mingyu’s broad chest without meaning to. One of Mingyu’s hands drops to hold onto his hip instead. He leans his cheek against the side of Minghao’s neck, draping his weight more comfortably on Minghao’s shoulders.

He should pull away before someone starts actually paying attention to them. Desire has already started to sink under his skin— an itch he can’t do anything to scratch. He can hear footsteps coming up the back of the stage; vocal unit coming up for their set. He wiggles out of Mingyu’s loose grasp, clearing his throat and trying to regain his focus.

Mingyu blinks at him, the smile he had starting to fade. “Hey, is everything…”

Minghao shakes his head before Mingyu finishes the question, shoving his hands into the loose pockets of his sweats. “Not here.”

“Oh,” Mingyu says, looking at the stage entrance and laughing, the sound sticking in his throat. “Yeah. I get it.”

In spite of his words, Mingyu’s shoulders slump forward and he has the dejected look on his face that he shares with Bao. Minghao’s traitor heart twists at the sight.

“Later,” he says, reaching out to give Mingyu’s hand a quick squeeze. “I promise.”

**{* * *}**

For years, it’s been a tradition for all of them to go out to eat after a concert. They pile into the first restaurant they can find that seems like it has space for all of them— rowdy and sweaty and too full of energy for the small place they find themselves in.

Still, the owners seem thrilled to have all of them, even when they shove three tables together to make enough space to sit.

Predictably, Minghao ends up with Mingyu sitting by his side— Seokmin on the other side. He and Mingyu have been splitting a bottle of wine after Seokmin took two sips of it and wrinkled his nose and passed his glass over to Mingyu. After all the food the owners stuff them with, Minghao is pretty sure it would be impossible to get him drunk.

Tipsy, though— that’s a possibility. He’s leaning into Mingyu’s side, head laying against his shoulder, half-listening to the story Soonyoung is bubbling his way through. The other half of his attention is pulled over to the warmth of Mingyu’s body pressing into his, the way his chest expands with his breathing.

Soonyoung’s attention has already wandered off but Mingyu is still nodding along with his words. Minghao drapes an arm around his back, turning his head so his face presses into the side of Mingyu’s neck.

He’s warm from the wine and even with the members all talking around him, Minghao feels like he could almost fall asleep like this. 

He feels like he could do plenty of other things too. His hand slides under Mingyu’s shirt, fingers grazing his skin. It takes a moment for Mingyu to notice it but when he does, Minghao can feel the slight catch in his breath.

Minghao lifts his head away from Mingyu’s neck, blinking at the light before taking another slow sip of his wine. He still has his hand on Mingyu’s bare hip, feeling the arch of it with his thumb. Mingyu is trying to pretend he doesn’t notice it at all.

Mingyu has his left hand laying on top of the table, ring still on his finger. Minghao wishes he could stop himself from noticing it. He isn’t the only one still paying attention. It’s been a struggle to keep anyone else from finding out and Minghao suspects that there’s already rumors bouncing between the members. It isn’t the first time they’ve had matching jewelry, or even the first time they’ve had matching rings.

But a gold band is a much more permanent symbol. Something Minghao isn’t sure they have a claim to or not. 

Feeling Mingyu up during their big post-concert family dinner probably isn’t helping him keep the secret but once he’s started Minghao doesn’t want to stop, either. It’s entertaining to track all the ways Mingyu struggles not to react.

They used to play games like this a lot, when they were much younger and still getting used to the idea of fan service— still getting used to each other. They would practice touching each other. Mostly it was in small, friendly ways; holding hands or seeing how long they could stare into each other’s eyes. Usually it would go on until one of them caved and started laughing.

So now he drags his knuckles up the knobs of Mingyu’s spine and keeps his attention on the glass of wine he has in front of him. When they were young and Minghao wasn’t used to so much physical contact from anyone, he would always break first. He would laugh or pull away and resettle on the other side of the bed. Now that he’s spent nearly a decade with Mingyu hanging off of him whenever he pleases, Minghao is much harder to rattle.

Tonight, it seems like Mingyu is the opposite. His breathing goes uneven and though he doesn’t move or brush Minghao off, he keeps sending nervous glances in his direction. Minghao blinks back at him, a slow grin spreading across his face.

“Want more?” Minghao asks, grabbing the bottle of wine and tipping it toward Mingyu’s glass. Mingyu’s cheeks are flushed but Minghao isn’t sure if that’s from the wine or from the way Minghao’s traced the lines of his back.

“Yeah,” Mingyu says, a little belated. His tongue darts out over his lower lip and Minghao’s stomach twists. 

If he kissed Mingyu right now, Minghao is pretty sure his mouth would taste just like the wine. He wants to test that theory out. He rests the neck of the bottle against the rim of Mingyu’s glass, filling it once again.

His hand drops from Mingyu’s back to rest on the inside of his thigh, instead. Mingyu jolts, enough that he bumps into Hansol. Hansol turns slowly and laughs, putting his hand on Mingyu’s shoulder.

“Alright?” He asks, grinning when Mingyu nods. “Don’t let him get you into trouble again.”

Minghao didn’t think it was possible for Mingyu’s face to get any redder. He uses Mingyu’s shoulder to leverage himself up before tugging his arm to make him stand as well. Mingyu gets up slowly and by the time he’s on his feet, Hansol isn’t the only one paying attention to him.

“Help me find the bathroom,” Minghao says, dragging Mingyu away from the table. Mingyu is quicker to follow along, slipping his hand into Minghao’s.

“I think it’s by the kitchen,” Mingyu says, like Minghao could really get lost in a tiny family place like this. Still, lets Mingyu lead the way and doesn’t argue.

The bathroom turns out to be a single, private one and Minghao shoves Mingyu through the door before locking it behind them. Mingyu doesn’t stumble but he does keep hold of Minghao’s hand.

His throat bobs hard around a swallow and Minghao wants to follow the motion with his mouth.

“What are we doing in here?” Mingyu asks, his voice strained.

“What do you think?” Minghao says in return, advancing another step toward Mingyu. Mingyu doesn’t back away but he doesn’t reach out to pull Minghao in either.

“I don’t think we—” Mingyu starts only to be cut off by Minghao’s mouth meeting with his. Mingyu is right, but at the moment it doesn’t matter. He melts into the kiss, his arm wrapping around Minghao’s back to pull him closer.

Minghao was right, he can still taste the wine in Mingyu’s mouth when his tongue presses past Mingyu’s lips. He hooks his fingers around the back of Mingyu’s neck to keep him from pulling away. Mingyu doesn’t try— tilting his head to help them find a better angle.

All he wants to do for the next fifty years is kiss Mingyu, even if it’s in a cramped bathroom with a paper thin door. 

Mingyu kisses him back like he means it, backing them up until Minghao is leaning against the wall next to the door. Minghao digs his fingers into Mingyu’s neck and wonders if this is how it went the first time around too; holding Mingyu’s head in place and pressing messy kisses along his jaw. Mingyu makes a noise, small and surprised, pressing his body into Minghao’s even more. They have three more days of concerts and there’s no way to explain to the other members where Mingyu suddenly got a hickey.

Minghao wants to bite down on his neck anyway. He can’t explain the desire to leave a mark— the wedding band on Mingyu’s finger should be claim enough.

On a whim, he wraps his fingers around Mingyu’s wrist, pulling his hand up so he can see it. He presses his thumb against the ring, feeling the warm gold and staring at it intently. Mingyu’s lips part but he doesn’t say anything. Minghao isn’t sure what he wants Mingyu to say.

Mingyu leans forward, bending his body into Minghao’s, the arm Minghao doesn’t have a grip on wrapping around his back. His mouth slides along the side of Minghao’s neck, kissing him so softly that it makes goosebumps creep across his skin. Minghao weaves their fingers together, gripping onto Mingyu’s hand tighter than before.

“Minghao.” Mingyu’s voice almost gets lost in the small space between them. Minghao curls his fingers in Mingyu’s hair, nails scraping over his scalp.

Before Mingyu says anything else, a knock on the door makes both of them jump. Mingyu stands up slowly, eyes round as coins.

“We’re getting the check,” Seungcheol’s voice cuts through the door and Minghao presses his face into Mingyu’s chest to muffle the sound of him groaning. “I suggest you two do whatever you’re doing at home instead.”

Minghao doesn’t say anything, still hiding, so Mingyu clears his throat. “Um, okay hyung.”

His footsteps fade as he walks in and Mingyu continues staring at the door, giggling nervously.

“We should go,” Minghao says, giving Mingyu’s shoulder a gentle push to get him moving. He drops Mingyu’s hand as well, giving his head a quick shake.

“Yeah,” Mingyu says more slowly. He steps back, giving Minghao the space to yank open the door. “I’m sure they don’t think we were…”

He trails off and Minghao pauses in the doorway to shoot him a little glare. “Really?”

It isn’t like he can really blame Mingyu, though. He’s the one who decided to drag him off in front of everyone. Mingyu is still lingering a few steps behind and when Minghao turns to face him again, he puts a hasty smile on his face.

He could ask Mingyu what's wrong but he knows already. He doesn't ask because he doesn't have the heart to tell Mingyu that this was just another mistake.

By the time they get back to the group, the check is paid and members have started drifting off for the night. Minghao braces himself for a long, quiet drive home.

**{* * *}**

Mingyu isn’t anticipating it when Minghao shows up late after a series of meetings one afternoon, glaring at his phone and banging the door shut behind him loudly enough that Mingyu jumps, nearly falling off the couch.

“Bad meeting?” He asks, fighting a smile when Bao leaps up to weave around Minghao’s legs and shake her rump excitedly. Minghao smiles a little as well, scratching the dog between the ears when she sits.

“Meeting was fine,” Minghao says after a moment, shaking his head. The light waves of his hair fluffing up as he does. “I got some annoying texts from Hansol.”

“Is he sending a million at a time again?” Mingyu says, sitting up to make space for Minghao to sit down as well. Minghao frowns, shaking his head and dropping on the couch after he aligns his shoes with one of his feet.

“No,” he says, heaving a sigh as he stretches so he’s laying half in Mingyu’s lap. Mingyu isn’t even sure he realizes it until he’s already settled himself in because he blinks and shifts his weight like he might sit up again.

Ultimately, he must decide against it because he settles his head against Mingyu’s thigh once again. “He keeps sending me these annoying legal websites.”

“For what?” Mingyu says, passing his fingers through Minghao’s hair.

“Divorces,” Minghao says, still staring at the screen of his phone.

Mingyu stops, dropping his hand to the side, curling it slowly into a fist like he might be able to hide the ring still on his finger.

“I didn’t know you asked him about that,” Mingyu says, his voice strained in a way he doesn’t intend. Minghao’s lips part, hesitating like he’s trying to carefully weigh his words.

“I figured it was the best way to… do something,” Minghao says, the uncertainty in his tone growing as he speaks. He looks up at Mingyu then back at his phone. “I thought there was just a way to cancel it or something.”

“Cancel it,” Mingyu repeats, a little dubious himself.

“Since it’s not something we were planning to do,” Minghao says. He moves to sit up and this time Mingyu leans back to let him.

“I just thought…” Mingyu starts then lets his voice trail off, shaking his head slowly. “Is it, um, hard?”

“I don’t know,” Minghao says, pushing his fingers back through his bangs. “I can barely understand half of this.”

“There might be, ah, a lawyer,” Mingyu says, stumbling his way through the thought. “At the company. Who can help.”

“I was hoping we could avoid telling them about it,” Minghao says, leaning back against the couch with a sigh. “I figured it’d be easier to just get it all over with.”

Mingyu’s stomach twists up into knots and he finds himself looking away to frown at one of the paintings on the wall. It’s been a long time since he’s felt so uncertain of his feelings for Minghao and how to even begin putting them into words.

He doesn’t want to insist on staying married… not if it’s really bothering Minghao so much. But there’s an appeal to the idea of it for him. Even if it’s just a piece of paper with their names drunkenly scribbled in a different language, it’s a confirmation that their relationship is real— permanent— that they’re more than just two people stuck together out of habit and circumstance.

“Would it be so bad,” Mingyu says, not looking at Minghao as he talks, unable to work up the courage for it. “If we just… stayed married, I mean.”

“I don’t even think it counts for real over here,” Minghao says, his gaze prodding at the side of Mingyu’s face.

“That’s just paperwork, isn’t it?” Mingyu says, looking back at him finally.

Minghao, for a moment, doesn’t say anything. He presses his lips together in a fine line and nods.

“Sorry,” Mingyu says, even though he isn’t— not really. “I’m just… thinking. We can do the whole divorce thing if that’s what you want.”

“I don’t want a _divorce,”_ Minghao says, spitting it out like a curse. “It’s not like we’re splitting up or something.”

“You just don’t want us to be married?”

“Yes. No,” Minghao says, scowling when he tries to answer. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Mingyu asks, teetering between wounded and amused. It’s comforting to hear Minghao say that they aren’t splitting up but Mingyu doesn’t even know how to describe what they are. They’ve never taken the time to actually define the parameters of their relationship… it’s always just taken on whatever organic shape seems to fit best with their lives.

Before this, Mingyu didn’t even realize how badly he would want the two of them to be married.

“I like it,” Mingyu says, too quietly, before he loses his nerve again. Minghao’s lips part slightly, his brow furrowing.

“Like what?” He says, though it must be obvious enough already.

“Being married to you,” Mingyu says, giving his head a little shake. “I know nothing is really different but… it’s nice. I’d like it if you were my husband.”

He’s not expecting the way Minghao’s face slowly goes bright pink, starting at the tips of his ears and flushing over his cheeks as well. “You want me to be your husband?”

“If you want to be,” Mingyu says, a slow smile spreading across his face.

“It’s kind of a shitty way to ask me,” Minghao says, the hint of a tease in his voice. “There should be some romance involved, at least.”

“I’ll get down on one knee if you want me to,” Mingyu says, raising both eyebrows with a smile.

“Are you really trying to propose to me?” Minghao says, a sparkle of surprise in his eyes. “We haven’t even been on a date before.”

“Yeah,” Mingyu says, reaching out to gather Minghao’s hand in his, stroking his thumb over the gold band around Minghao’s finger. “I am. Do you wanna stay married to me?”

He moves to slide off the couch and kneel on the floor but Minghao laughs, lacing their fingers together and pulling Mingyu toward him instead, his other hand coming up to cup the side of Mingyu’s face.

“No,” he says, after planting a delicate kiss to Mingyu’s mouth. “I wanna have a real wedding with you.”

“We can do that,” Mingyu says, pressing his forehead against Minghao’s.

“With people there,” Minghao says, stroking his fingers through Mingyu’s hair before pulling him into another kiss. “And tuxedos.”

“Whatever you want,” Mingyu says, shifting to pull Minghao properly against his chest, his mouth following the line of Minghao’s neck.

**{* * *}**

It takes a lot more to make Minghao nervous than Mingyu. So, when Minghao spends the entire day fluttering nervously around the apartment, it only frays Mingyu’s nerves further.

“When are your parents getting to the restaurant?” Mingyu asks, twisting the gold ring around his finger over and over. 

“Twenty minutes,” Minghao says, glaring at the screen of his phone. “They insisted I didn’t come pick them up.”

“Okay,” Mingyu says, swallowing hard. “And we’re gonna tell everyone at once?”

“That we’re getting married?” Minghao says, setting his phone on the couch next to him. “That’s the plan.”

“Maybe we should have said something before this,” Mingyu says, tapping his fingers on the table. Minghao looks at him and sighs, holding his hand out. Mingyu lets himself be beckoned over, settling on the couch with a long sigh.

“Do you think they’re gonna be upset?” Minghao asks, tucking his arm around Mingyu’s shoulders. Mingyu sighs once again, leaning into Minghao until his head is on Minghao’s shoulder, shutting his eyes.

“It’s a little late to worry about it,” Mingyu says, a little smile on his face. He reaches out, taking Minghao’s hand in his and running his thumb over the wedding band.

“I guess so,” Minghao says, trying not to be distracted by the lurch in his stomach. They definitely don’t have time for anything like that. He peels himself away from Mingyu’s back, pressing a fleeting kiss to the side of his face before he stands up. It hasn’t yet sunk in all the way that he can touch Mingyu in all the ways he wants to. The kiss makes Mingyu’s cheeks go pink and Minghao think it probably hasn’t quite sunk in yet for him either.

“We should get going,” Minghao says, trying to tug imaginary wrinkles out of his blazer. Mingyu hums, picking himself up as well.

The place they invited all four of their parents to is upscale and quiet, exactly what Minghao was hoping for. The table the six of them are settled at is to the side of the room and he feels less paranoid about their conversation being picked up on by staff or someone else who might find it interesting. The company is aware of their plan, at least, but it wouldn’t be good for anything to get leaked before an actual announcement is made.

He and Mingyu are the first two to arrive, thankfully. Mingyu has a hard time sitting still as soon as they take their seats, squirming around and tugging at the edge of the tablecloth over and over. Minghao rolls his eyes, using his palm to smooth out the winkles Mingyu’s fidgeting has created.

“It’s gonna be fine,” he says, trying to project confidence he doesn’t exactly feel. Mingyu nods, pushing his hair back from his face and shaking his head.

“Telling the CEO was easier than this,” he says, laughing a little. Minghao nods, laying his hand on Mingyu’s back, rubbing between his shoulders.

Minghao’s pretty sure announcing your hopes to get married to your parents is never easy. Even if it wasn’t Mingyu, he would still be anxious about it.

Mingyu’s parents are the first to arrive, greeting both of them with tight hugs and friendly questions; about Bao, the upcoming tour, how the other members are doing. They don’t ask why Mingyu and Minghao suddenly felt like it was important to have them dine with Minghao’s parents— something that hasn’t really ever happened. They’ve met before, of course, several times over the years. Maybe it doesn’t stand out to the, the way it does to Minghao. 

Minghao’s family arrives a few minutes later and the whole routine repeats itself with the addition of Minghao interpreting Mandarin into Korean. He’s used to this too— in the past, he’s taken Mingyu out with his parents a few times and always played translator when the handful of phrases Mingyu knows in Mandarin get used up.

All too soon, Minghao is glaring at the elegant white menu and trying to work up the courage to explain why they’re all having this meal. He and Mingyu didn’t decide who was asking for who’s hand in marriage but Mingyu looks like he’s waiting for the floor to swallow him up. That leaves Minghao in charge of broaching the topic, something he has no idea how to do.

He’s never told anyone else that he loves Mingyu. Their meeting with the company was more business than sentiment. No one asked how they felt about each other or how long it took them to come to a decision like this.

“Thank you for coming tonight,” Minghao says finally, looking at his own parents then at Mingyu’s. He’s spoken to arenas of fifty thousand fans before but tonight his voice shakes. “We really wanted the chance to um, have a meal together.”

Even though his parents can understand this much Korean, they’re both still giving Minghao curious looks. He can’t blame them. He can’t remember the last time he was this nervous about something.

“I want to talk about something important,” Minghao says, in Mandarin this time. It’s quieter as well, his fingers curling around the edge of the table.

He’s thankfully saved from saying anything else by the waiter appearing over his father’s shoulder with a bright smile on her face, asking them for their orders.

Minghao sinks into his seat and doesn’t pick back up on his thought. The meal isn’t exactly awkward— there’s plenty for them to talk about and Minghao is kept busy relaying things from one language to another. Sitting next to him, Mingyu is oddly quiet. Minghao can feel the tension building in him and when he does talk his words come out at blistering speeds.

“We want to get married,” Mingyu says, ten minutes after their food arrives. The words bolt so fast out of his mouth that it takes Minghao a moment to catch up as well.

Everyone is staring at him and it seems like Mingyu only then realizes what he’s said. There’s silence following it— Minghao should say something but he doesn’t know what. They should have found a better way to do this. Announcing it suddenly in the middle of a meal definitely wasn’t the right tactic.

The silence stretches until Minghao almost wants to get up and drag Mingyu away from the table with him to escape from it.

Then, Kim Minkyung, Mingyu’s mother, tips her head back and laughs. It’s a warm, familiar laugh— the same as Mingyu’s.

“Is that why you’re so worked up, dear?” She asks. She reaches across the table to take Mingyu’s hand in hers, squeezing it. “We’ve been expecting you to get engaged for the last year.”

“Wh— you have?” Mingyu says, blinking rapidly. “Since when?”

“Well at least since you moved in together,” she says, shaking her head with a smile. “I didn’t think you two needed a roommate to help pay the rent.”

If it weren’t such a scathing review of his own obliviousness, Minghao would laugh. Of course, they could afford separate apartments, but they decided to move out of the dorm _together_ and Minghao never even looked for a place without Mingyu in mind.

“Did you know too?” Minghao asks, looking over at his parents with a frown. His father smiles, his shoulders shaking when he laughs.

“I think you’ve come late to the party,” he says, shaking his head. “It’s good that you make each other happy.”

Minghao, at the moment, isn’t entirely inclined to agree with him on that. But Mingyu looks delighted and embarrassed at the same time— flushed pink up to the tips of his ears and down the sides of his neck. If they weren’t in public, in front of their parents Minghao might kiss his cheek and see if he could make Mingyu go even redder.

But since he can’t do that here, he pats the back of Mingyu’s hand with a smile, squeezing his hand. Mingyu looks over and smiles, flipping his hand over to squeeze Minghao’s in his.

**{* * *}**

It doesn’t exactly adhere to tradition, but somehow they manage to arrange for the tea ceremony that Minghao’s parents _insist_ they have to have to take place in a little boutique hotel on Jeju island.

They’ve planned already for a much larger party, one involving the rest of the members and the company and all of their close friends. A real wedding that’ll take place in a wedding hall and give everyone else they love the chance to celebrate with them.

But today, the sun is shining and Minghao has the windows of their hotel room open to listen to the waves crashing up against the beach and today, at least in the eyes of their families, Mingyu and Minghao are getting married.

Nervous, it turns out, is not the right word for what Minghao is feeling. There’s no whirling feeling in his stomach, and it isn’t like the boost of adrenaline he gets before performing on a stage. It’s an altogether different feeling. They get whirled through styling just like they would for a performance on stage and Minghao greets guests as they arrive standing between his parents. He’s still trying to put a name to what it is settling in behind his ribs— curled up content like a cat in the sun.

Maybe that’s the way it goes for him. For so long he’s managed to love Mingyu without realizing it— bringing their lives closer and closer together without asking himself why. He didn’t stop to ask himself _why_ he decided to marry Mingyu in America, drunk or not. All he was concerned with was what to do about if after. 

This is the logical conclusion to the way he unconsciously surrendered his heart— to give it up of his own free will instead.

It’s too late for both of them to still be in bed, entwined like vines. Minghao has his hand on Mingyu’s chest.

A few months ago, they woke up very much like this in a different hotel room to discover what Minghao was sure to be the greatest mistake of his life.

Mingyu’s fingers card slowly through his hair and Minghao hums, shutting his eyes. “We need to get ready.”

“In a minute,” Mingyu says, scraping his nails against the base of Minghao’s skull. “I’m not done hogging your attention yet.”

Minghao muffles a laugh, pressing a small kiss to the bare skin of Mingyu’s shoulder. “You have the rest of the week to do that.”

“So what?” Mingyu asks, smug. “I need all the time I can get.”

“You’re so cheesy,” Minghao says, sitting up and wrinkling his nose. “Are you gonna use lines like that on your makeup show?”

“No,” Mingyu says, though the tips of his ears flush pink, betraying him.

“Uh huh,” Minghao says, sitting up with a huff. He stretches his arms over his head, groaning as his spine cracks back into its proper place. Mingyu doesn’t move, dragging the tips of his fingers over Minghao’s bare ribs. The touch is so light it makes Minghao erupt in shivers, little bumps crawling over his skin.

“Quit that,” he says, no heat in his voice. He brushes Mingyu’s hand away, pushing hair back from his eyes. “You’re gonna get us in trouble.”

“I will not,” Mingyu says, pouting now. “We have plenty of time.”

“We have time _now_ ,” Minghao says, shaking his head. He hasn’t pulled away yet— can’t quite make himself do it. “We’ll be late if we get carried away.”

Mingyu sticks his lower lip out, petulant, but this time he doesn’t argue. Minghao finally pulls himself out of the bed, dragging the sheet with him and leaving Mingyu uncovered. Mingyu whines, sitting up and trying to grab the ends before Minghao has the whole sheet dragged off into the bathroom with him. When he doesn’t manage it, he ends up scrambling out of the bed, laughing the whole way.

Minghao decides he’s definitely not nervous.

**{* * *}**

The tea ceremony itself is in a small sun room with massive windows facing out onto the sparkling ocean a few hundred feet away. Minghao could spend days in here doing nothing but using his camera to chart the movements of the waves. The set up is complete with a pair of embroidered red pillows— the same ones his parents used in their original ceremony, according to his mother.

Mingyu’s parents purchased the tea set. It only seemed right for each of them to provide a piece of the ceremony, since neither of them can really be considered the bride. The pot is a cheerful shade of red with intricate white flowers covering the surface of it and the small cups. Each cup has a single red date sitting at the bottom, waiting for tea to be poured over it.

As much as he wants to, Minghao can’t spend every moment leading up to the ceremony appreciating how handsome Mingyu looks in the tuxedo he picked out. He’s running over each family member in his head— both their parents, their grandparents, Minghao’s two uncles and their wives, Mingyu’s older sister…

He has to hope that the two times they practiced the ceremony with other members as stand-ins for family actually helped. Asking Soonyoung and Seokmin to join was a mistake— they spent the whole first rehearsal working on their grandma-and-grandpa skit which only made Mingyu laugh and lose focus on the specifics. Still, however silly the two of them were, Minghao trusts Mingyu to get it right in the moment.

“Ready?” He asks, grazing his hand over Mingyu’s arm with a smile. Mingyu smiles back, shy, ducking his head slightly toward his chest.

“We’re gonna get married three times,” Mingyu says, taking Minghao’s hand and running his thumb over the gold band on his finger.

“The first time doesn’t count,” Minghao says, trying to jab his elbow into Mingyu’s ribs.

Before they left the room, the two of the played rock-paper-scissors to decide who should be sitting on the left and who should be on the right. Minghao ended up with the left-hand side and so when he kneels carefully on his own pillow, he ends up facing Mingyu’s father.

The pot in the middle of the table gets filled up with tieguanyin tea from a larger pot, already brewed and left to keep warm while each member of their family gets served. Minghao takes it carefully in both hands, filling the four cups in front of him with steaming tea. The red dates bob before finding their way to the surface, bouncing as Minghao lifts each in both hands and presents them to Mingyu’s parents— first to his father, then his mother.

“Father,” he says, praying his hands don’t shake. “Enjoy your tea.” He repeats the same to Mingyu’s mother as well.

Mingyu’s hand brushes the small of his back, so fleeting that Minghao could have almost imagined the touch. It somehow makes the whole thing less nerve-wracking, imagined or not. He’s less worried that he’s going to spill tea in his mom’s lap or serve the wrong person and end up insulting them.

Maybe he just feels better because Mingyu is infinitely more likely to make a clumsy mistake than he is. The thought makes Minghao smile though he does his best to push it down as quickly as he can. The ceremony is a solemn joining of their two families, not a chance to giggle at Mingyu like he does with the members. Mingyu must catch the hint of a grin though because he’s looking at Minghao with a matching expression— barely restraining his delight.

After this and the meal that they’re joining their families for, Minghao is going to drag Mingyu to some far corner of the beach and kiss him until he smiles exactly the same way. Minghao finishes the initial serving and settles back on his cushion, tucking his hands in his lap. 

Then its Mingyu’s turn to serve tea to his parents. It goes in the same order; with Mingyu serving his father and then his mother. He seems less nervous than Minghao expected. Perhaps it’s easier for him to serve to his own parents first. Either way, the way his canines poke out of his smile makes Minghao feel funny and flushed. 

The smile on his face grows when he makes it through without spilling either small cup of tea, passing them over with both hands, the small date bobbing in the dark liquid when the cups are set down.

Mingyu’s mother smiles, sipping from her cup and taking a small, red-wrapped package from where it was sitting on the floor beside her. The both of them tried their best to stress to their family members that neither of them were looking for gifts or money… unlike most couples just starting out on their own, Mingyu and Minghao have the means to take care of themselves and then some. It seems that the message wasn’t entirely received. Mingyu takes the small box in both hands and Minghao is surprised when Mingyu’s father passes a matching one into his hand,s.

To Minghao’s surprise, the same gift is in each box. A watch, nestled in bright red fabric, the glass face polished until it shines in the light of the room. It’s one of the mechanical ones that Minghao has a fascination with, the inside constructed so that the movement of the mechanisms inside can be seen. He spends several seconds just watching the intricate gears tick, keeping time and moving the second hand forward.

After a moment of admiring it, Minghao removes the watch carefully from the box and fixes it around his wrist. It’s part of the tradition for the two of them to immediately wear whatever jewelry is presented to them and after a moment, Mingyu follows Minghao’s lead.

Then it’s his turn to serve his own parents. The procedure doesn’t change; for each person down the table they’ll do the same. Minghao bows his head, passing the tea into his father’s hands and smiling. It’s definitely less nerve-wracking to serve to his own parents as opposed to Mingyu’s.

They proceed with the rest of the ceremony and no one’s clothes get ruined— an old fear from one of his uncles attending a cousin’s wedding only to see the grandmother’s dress ruined when the groom spilled tea on it. There’s a cramp in Minghao’s calf that he’s only ignoring by virtue of years of experience. He has to resist the urge to stretch his whole body out long and lean like he does after a long day of practice. He can see the same thought on Mingyu’s face and it makes a smile catch on his face.

With the ceremony finished, they have a few hours to go back to their room and rest or explore the beach before they have to gather for dinner together. Minghao groans when the door shuts behind him, stretching his arms over his head and heaving out a long breath. Mingyu catches him around the middle, arms wrapping around his waist, chin hooked over his shoulder. Minghao stumbles half a step, overtaken by his enthusiasm and he catches himself with a laugh.

“Can you call me your husband again?” Mingyu says, his voice tickling down the back of Minghao’s neck.

“I never said it before,” Minghao says, leaning back into the warmth of Mingyu’s chest with a laugh.

“You did, once,” Mingyu says, kissing the nape of his neck. “I liked it.”

“Perv,” Minghao says, breaking away only to drag Mingyu away from the door and in the direction of the bed. Mingyu laughs, the grin on his face getting wider.

“Just say it,” Mingyu whines, his tone toying with petulance. Minghao hums, shedding his suit jacket and laying it neatly on the bed. He can feel Mingyu’s eyes following him and he turns, pulling him in closer. He slides his hands under Minghao’s jacket, kissing along the side of his neck above the collar of his shirt.

He works the jacket off of Mingyu’s shoulders and tosses onto the bed as well. He gathers Mingyu’s tie in his hands, sliding his fingers under the knot and slowly pulling it loose. Mingyu’s breath catches when Minghao’s fingers slide along the side of his throat. He continues the work of undressing Mingyu, turning the words over in his mind.

More than anything, he’s enjoying making Mingyu wait for it.

He drags a hand over the side of Mingyu’s neck, pulling him in for a kiss.

Mingyu abruptly laughs against his lips, taking a step back and shaking his head. “You’re distracting me.”

“You make it too easy,” Minghao says, still hanging onto Mingyu’s shirt. He grips Mingyu’s shirt a little tighter, keeping him from taking another step back. “Kim Mingyu,” he says, dragging out each syllable of his name. “My husband.”

**{* * *}**

The wedding ceremony in Korea is thankfully quick and merciful. Even Minghao is beginning to reach his upper limit for weddings; even if he can’t really remember the first one.

There was a short meal after but after that, the other members dragged the two of them out to a bar near the wedding hall for shots and a lot of good-natured jokes at their expense. Minghao is seated at the low table still, the smell of meat grilling making his stomach grumble.

Between the thirteen of them, several bottles of soju and exquisite champagne carried over from the wedding itself have vanished. Minghao has a glass of champagne in front of him still; a bar glass the owner’s gave him rather than the fancy crystal flutes they had at the venue. 

On the other side of the table, Mingyu is propping up Chan and trying to convince him to drink from a glass of water, his hand resting on the back of his head. Mingyu is laughing, shifting the glass to make the ice ring against the sides.

“Chan-ah you’re gonna make yourself sick,” Mingyu says, his voice drawling.

“I hold my drinks better than Soonyoung-hyung, go bug him,” Chan says. In spite of his complaints, he’s still leaning into Mingyu.

Jun forces himself into the space between Minghao and Wonwoo, stretching his legs out and using his bony elbows to shove Wonwoo out of the way.

“Are you willing to admit that I’m always right?” He asks, leering in Minghao’s direction. Minghao pauses, the wine glass hovering in his hand, lifting his eyebrows curiously.

“What are you right about now?” Minghao says, a slight frown on his face.

“You and Mingyu,” Jun says, a broad smile on his face. “I told you this was going to happen.”

“Are you a fortune teller or just a hag?” Minghao says, shaking his head and laughing. “You butt your nose into all my relationships, hyung.”

“I’ve known forever that it was gonna end up like this,” Jun says, tossing his arm around Minghao’s shoulders. Minghao huffs, holding the glass more carefully so his suit doesn’t get ruined by Jun’s enthusiasm.

“You knew because I told you,” Jeonghan says, apparently no longer trying to ply the next shot of soju out of Seokmin’s fingers. His hold is already unsteady and he doesn’t even complain when Jeonghan tips the shot back himself.

“That’s not true,” Jun says, wrinkling his nose. “Everybody figured it out.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Jeonghan says, a devious smile on his face. “I knew first.”

“Don’t tell me you were making bets on my love life,” Minghao says, though he can’t really find it in himself to be truly annoyed. Jeonghan is like a lock box of secrets, he always has been. He knows about all of them and nothing but the most minor have ever slipped.

“Cheol-ah wouldn’t let us,” Joshua says, leaning his cheek on his palm.

“I told them not to bring it up,” Seungcheol says, giving Jun what might almost past for a disapproving look.

“You could’ve said _something,”_ Mingyu says, puffing his cheeks out. “We could’ve done this six months ago.”

In spite of how used to the rest of him he is, the back of Minghao’s neck flushes pink. “What do you mean six months ago?”

Mingyu blinks, his face going red in return. He ducks in Chan’s direction, like he’s planning on hiding behind their maknae. Chan doesn’t let him, shoving Mingyu away with a laugh. “Were you scared to tell him you like him?”

Mingyu opens his mouth, his eyebrows drawn together like he wants to argue but his mouth snaps shut after a moment, flushing even darker.

“I wasn’t scared,” Mingyu says, finally, slumping over a little. “I just didn’t need to say it.”

Minghao’s heart swells up big and full in his chest, threatening to pop against the inside of his ribs.

After this, when they leave, they’ll have the same life that Minghao already enjoyed; Bao and the other members and their apartment. But Minghao also has a wedding ring on his finger and a gifted watch on his wrist.

In even more ways than before, he has Mingyu too.

**Author's Note:**

> @eightology / @knightspur_ao3


End file.
